common
by accioyourheart
Summary: "You going to pull a Johanna Mason and pretend you're weak?" He asks with a taunting smirk, hiding his genuine curiosity. She shoves him up against the edge of the couch with her knife and smirks back. "Not a chance." cato/clove one word prompt. au: districtten!clove career cato. Also includes rebel!clove and Gale Hawthorne.


Common.

_we can trust, there's something in common between us._

lost in translation- district 10!clove + career cato

_includes rebel!clove _

...

The sun is rising.

She swings a leg over her horse and is off towards the pastures. She doesn't bother waking her brother up. It's his last year and she's cutting him some slack.

She decides to go to work, even though they're off today, and cuts up the meat with much motivation.

Blood covers her hands, her apron. Blades surround her as she chops through bones. It's a friendly environment for her.

Her director tells her to get on back home, to go be with her family.

She doesn't bother telling him that that makes it all worse.

She'd rather be here cutting up meat, or rounding up cattle. At least this way she can pretend to forget.

...

Regardless, she leaves. She goes to pick up a bottle of whiskey, mostly for her dad. He'll need it today, whether or not she is chosen. Whether or not Clem is.

_Clem will not get reaped_, she tells herself, before picking up the brown bag of liquor, and drowning down a shot of her own.

She's almost out the door, when a man corners her and smiles widely at her. He's missing teeth.

She strokes the edge of her knife behind her back, smelling the alcohol in his breath. Figures there'd be lots of drunk men on this day.

The bartender sees her struggle, and shoves the man away from her.

"You might want to head home, Clove. Get ready for the reaping and all."

She nods, and slips the knife back into her pocket before racing home bareback.

...

She comes home covered in blood, and her father looks at her with disapproval.

But he never says anything.

She hands him the bottle, and his looks turn empty.

...

Clem's not up by the time she's finished with her shower.

In her head, she hopes he's sick so that he can't attend the reaping.

She jumps onto his bed, pounding on his chest. He laughs and pushes her away, falling back into the bed.

_So much for that_, she thinks.

They laugh and laugh, not speaking a word. A moment of happiness on an otherwise dreadful day.

He checks the time and his laugh turns solemn before stopping altogether.

She wishes nothing more but to make him laugh again.

...

She wears an old dress of her mother's.

"Red suits you," Clem says. She gives him the remains of a smile that she can muster.

Her father can't look at her.

She wishes she didn't look like her mother before she bounds out the door.

...

Her name is called.

She does not scream.

She does not whimper.

She does not cry.

_Crying is for the weak, Clove. And you are not weak. _

She closes her eyes in acceptance.

...

Her knife dares to fall out from it's straps behind her thigh as she climbs up the stairs with a facade of confidence.

She can see Clem from the crowd, and refuses to make eye contact with him.

As her escort sticks her perfectly manicured hand into the bowl, she begs for anyone but Clem.

Her wish is granted.

Her breath is sucked into her mouth at a million miles per hour when she realizes the crippled boy from her district has been chosen.

He gives her a small smile and a quick squeeze of the hand when she slips his hand in hers for the handshake.

She catches his eyes, dark brown, and quickly takes her hand away.

She can't kill him.

...

She runs into Clem's arms, and places her head on his chest. The tears threaten to fall, on both sides of the embrace.

"Fuck." she whispers. He nods.

"Precisely. Fuck."

They hold each other, but not a tear falls. They know her mantra, and they live by it.

"Use your knife." he tells her. "Give them hell."

"I will." she promises, a mantra to be placed with the other. "I won't leave you for long."

She looks up at her father, drinking helplessly out of his flask. His empty glances, not a word of goodbye.

She could never leave him with that.

And as much as she hates to admit it, she could never leave that either.

...

After they leave, she is emotionless; her eyes glazing over in a lifeless daze.

And when she boards the train, she makes sure she leaves behind her heart.

...

Her mentors stare at her district partner's foot, and at her small demeanor, before looking away and ceasing all hope.

She hates it.

She throws her knife at the wall in between their heads, a silent way of telling them: _reconsider me. _

They look back at her shaking body with wide eyes, and nod approvingly.

...

They watch the reapings.

She observes everything, a perk of being that silent but well-known girl in the district. She's cautious.

The pair from One have something up their sleeves. The girl may seem pretty and dumb, but she knows that's not the case.

She can handle the girl from Two, she tells herself. A girl who volunteered too early; she watches her stumble in her heels up the stairs.

Her hope drops when the boy from Two volunteers. She watches him cautiously; large, strong, arrogant. She knows she can't bring him down.

The pair from four is trying too hard to be intimidating. The girl from Five looks as cautious and clever as she is.

The other districts are uneventful; including hers. There's nothing special about her, except that her face exudes intimidation. Something rarely seen from her district. She hopes this will be working in her favor.

She watches her partner climb up the stairs with trouble, and turns away from the screen. Another reminder that she cannot kill him.

The boy from eleven is someone she needs to stay far, far away from. So is the girl; she can't kill her either.

And the girl from twelve is one to keep an eye out for. She is going to be the star of this show because of her volunteering stunt.

She can't help but think that is exactly what she would do if Clem was reaped. If he was his sister instead, or if she was his brother.

That girl is lucky. Lucky to be able to save her sibling. She'd never get the chance.

She hates her for this.

...

She sinks into her bed, her arms curling over her legs, and stares wordlessly as her hope falls along with her body in that comfortable bed.

...

Her mentors inform her that her best bet is the join the careers. Show off, be intimidating.

She doesn't bother telling them it's unheard of for a district ten tribute to become a career, because they all saw her throw that knife.

...

When she sees her chariot outfit, she almost lunges forward and tackles her stylist.

She is some messed up version of a cowgirl. The capitol is very off in their interpretation, and she is very, very insulted.

Any girl that wears her hair in braided pigtails, rather than the conventional ponytail (to keep blood out, of course) is under the age of eight.

"Oh, but you look so cute." Her stylist coos.

She growls back.

...

She flings off her hat and storms off once she gets off her chariot.

Of course District Twelve would make a show when she is reaped.

Her stylists call after her, but she doesn't bother looking back.

No one bothered looking back at her when she was in the chariot.

...

_He_ sees her, though. She doesn't notice.

Cato watches as the girl throws a fit, and walks off angrily.

He sees the glint of a blade strapped behind her thigh.

District Ten is different this year.

...

Training starts the next day, and they don't have to talk to know the game plan.

Throw knives, be cocky. Maybe you'll be a career.

Her stomach churns her food, and she wishes she was back home.

...

Her district partner is wary of her, and she can't meet his eyes.

They never talk about alliances, about training, about anything.

Just polite nods. She's fine with this.

...

Her knives hit target after target, whizzing by tributes and catching attention.

District Twelve watches her, and she smirks. She isn't the only outlying district tribute with talent.

She tries to get as much attention as possible, and she succeeds.

After all, she never misses.

...

"Hey, District Ten." The boy from two waves her over. "Come over here."

The careers are sitting all at one table, trying to exude fear. She knows she can take them all down.

All but this one. She complies with his orders.

"How the fuck did you learn how to throw like that?" he asks, a confident smile on his face.

She smirks back, trying to account for her lack of arrogance. "Depends on whatever angle I'm supposed to be playing."

He raises his eyebrows in amusement at the small girl in front of him.

"Would joining the career pack be good for that angle?"

She hears the others protest around her, obviously not agreeing with his decision. But she knows he's the ringleader, and he _wants_ her.

"It just might." she answers, sitting down at their table.

Career Clove takes over.

...

They accept it, almost willingly, and she's surprised at how fast her transaction from weak girl to career happened so quickly.

They discuss the addition of Thresh, and she takes one look at him before telling them not to waste their breath.

"He's not going to want to join us. He's one of those noble bastards."

Cato, she learns his name, is reluctant to listen, but she holds his gaze and he changes the subject.

...

She gets to know them, one by one. Eating lunch, sparring, and intimidating together seems to give you some bonding time.

Glimmer is definitely smarter than she lets on, but is weak. Marvel is one of those kids that thinks he can, and thinks he can, but _never actually can._

Lyra, the District Two girl, is the exact same.

And the pair from Four are worthless; they are hardly decent at battling.

Cato, however, is a challenge.

But he seems to like her, and she'll use that to her advantage.

He smiles at her over his lunch, and she smirks back.

Yes, she'll definitely use that to her advantage.

...

"Nice ring." Clove says to Glimmer. She smiles and thanks her.

"When are you going to use it in the games?" she adds. Glimmer gives her a venomous look that must equate the poison in the ring.

Cato laughs at stares at the curious addition to the career pack.

She laughs nervously with him. She's already making enemies.

...

He pulls her away, the day before they are to show off their moves.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hisses. She is not allowed here, on the second floor. He hushes her, and smirks back.

"Making alliances." he responds.

She goes with it. She's using him to her advantage, right?

...

"You going to pull a Johanna Mason and pretend you're weak?" He asks with a taunting smirk, hiding his genuine curiosity.

She shoves him up against the edge of the couch with her knife and smirks back. "Not a chance."

He kisses her. She kisses back.

...

Her heart flutters in her chest.

She thought she had left it at home.

...

She throws knife after knife, trying not to get irritated at the gamemakers lack of attention.

She hopes it's enough.

It isn't.

...

She receives a ten.

The girl from twelve gets an eleven.

She grits her teeth, and plans her death, before stopping herself.

Career Clove is taking over Actual Clove, and she can't let this happen.

...

She observes the interviews with much disdain. She doesn't learn much.

But she feels her heart rate elevate, despite her constant yelling at it to stop, when Cato mentions that there will be an unexpected addition to the career pack this year.

"Oh, really, Cato?" Caesar asks with interest. "Any hints?"

He smirks that smirk of his, and stares right at her. "No, I think I'll let the audience wait in anticipation. I will let you know, however, that she is worthy of her spot."

His interview ends, and so does her act.

...

Her interview is short, and uneventful. She's wearing an ugly southern dress with cow spots, and she laughs with the crowd when they see it.

"The girl from Ten with a score of ten!" Caesar opens.

Career Clove takes over and feigns confidence. Actual Clove adds touches of sweetness.

And when Caesar asks about a boy back home, she grins with all her teeth and answers,

"Of course not. There are only a few people that can deal with me."

The crowd laughs, and Career Clove and Actual Clove high five in her head.

...

He pulls her away from the interview and bites her lip raw.

She punctures his neck with her fingernails before pulling away.

He smirks. Career Clove smirks back.

_(Or was that Actual Clove?)_

...

The night before the games, she stares at herself in the mirror. At the place where her heart is beating hard.

She places her knife on her chest. She dreams of carving it out.

Maybe then she could be rational.

But her thoughts and her mantras are lost in translation between the world she once lived in, and the world she has created for herself to live in now.

...

Her heart pumps heavily, her palms are sweaty, and her legs shake as listens to the countdown.

She takes in her settings; woods. Grass, good traction for running. Rocks, good weapons laying around if she can't get her hands on knives. A wheat field, good place for muttations to hide.

She curses when she sees trees, knowing she can't climb very well.

Her eyes catch metal, and she takes it in. A cool breath runs into her lungs slowly, and she picks out her pathway. Her eyes meet Cato's, and he smirks. She looks away quickly.

_3, 2, 1. _

...

She can practically see Clem with his eyes wide open staring at the screen watching her, so she closes her eyes as she stabs and stabs and stabs.

Soon she's covered in blood, this time human rather than animal, and the careers are running toward her. She tries to look strong.

She stands up, hands shaking, and puts on her best smirk.

_After all, this is television. Acting is expected. _

...

"An unbelievable feat! Clove has teamed up with the careers, something unheard of until now! District Two and District Ten working together? Now we see why she earned that ten!"

...

There are two unusual additions to the career pack. A district Ten girl. A district Twelve boy.

The difference is, Lover Boy is positioned at the back. She's at the front; second in command.

...

Cato pulls her out of the mess of tracker jackers, and she submerges herself underwater. Away from the pain.

She hears a shuffle, and she points in her haze for Cato to go after it. If he can.

He leaves her side right before she passes out. She can feel the warm imprints of where his hands were, searing into her skin and burning like her stings.

...

The hallucinations are hell.

It's her dad's gaze watching her and despising her for looking like her mother.

It's her mother leaving her home, and laughing as she runs away. It's her mother turning into a muttation and attacking Clem.

It's Clem pleading for his life, and her trying to stop her mother.

And then realizing that Clem is pleading for his life from herself. She is the muttation. She is the killer.

When she wakes up, she is a wreck of emotion that she hides from the TV.

She wishes then, more than ever, that she didn't look like her mother.

She wishes then, more than ever, that Career Clove would disappear.

...

He's by her side, knocked out.

She watches his eyes move frantically underneath his eyelids, and wonders what a boy like him could be dreaming of.

...

She can hear a shuffling, and in the corner of her eye he can catch a boy limping on his right leg. Not his left, like Peeta.

His right.

Cato hears it too, and turns immediately; signaling for her to follow.

She catches his arm, sucking in a breath, thinking of her district partner, and he turns angrily.

In return, she catches Cato's lips and hopes for him to escape quickly. After seconds of him hungrily kissing her back, he retreats and remembers his task.

"Clove, he's going to get away." he hisses loudly at her. She shoves him down, partly because of her heart beating quickly for that boy, and partly because of her heart beating quickly for the boy underneath her.

"Let him. We can catch him later." She tries to smirk before nervously catching his mouth again.

...

The star-crossed lovers make her head hurt.

She loathes them.

She doesn't particularly know why. Maybe because it's too obvious to her that it's all an act. Maybe because they're ruining her chances at the games. Maybe because she knows she would cheer for them if it was any other games.

Any other game, if Clem wasn't in it, or if she wasn't in it, or if she wasn't in it with Cato.

She catches herself for adding that last one and hates herself for getting attached.

...

Her district partner dies.

She doesn't let him see her mourn.

...

A rule change is made. It doesn't apply to them.

She's not from District Two, and he's not from District Ten.

They stay together regardless. Neither knows why.

...

Nine. They'd agreed on nine. But as they tributes went down and were fed to the greedy hands of the capitol- who ate them whole - they stayed.

And she lays there underneath his arm wrapped around her torso at seven, staring at the stars and listening to his heartbeat, wondering if she should leave.

Her mind screams at her to go. Her mentors are obviously screaming at her to go. Clem is probably screaming at her to go.

But she doesn't. Because that heartbeat of his seems to drown out the screaming.

...

They spar in the daytime, and they hunt at night.

But in the middle, they are trying to make the other one fall.

Either falling to their death, or falling for the other.

One of them ends up doing both.

...

There are five left, time is ticking.

She doesn't know why she hasn't left yet.

The feast is announced. A bag for each district. Something they need.

The only thing she can think of that she needs is a ticket home, or a heart transplant.

Regardless, she leaves and doesn't look back.

...

The feast is a disaster. She arrives later, hoping to evade the inevitable battle.

Thresh is dead on the ground, Cato's obvious swordsmanship engraved onto him.

Peeta has fallen in the woods, possibly chasing after his lover, and was eaten by wolves.

Katniss is climbing the cornucopia, and Cato is fighting off the muttations.

She tries to run back into the woods. She really does.

But the gamemakers want this showdown. And the capitol gets what the capitol wants.

...

She climbs carefully, cursing at her weakness. She knows Katniss can hear her, but she can hear her mourning her lover.

Maybe it wasn't an act.

Regardless, she throws the knife, missing only by an inch. It knocks the girl on fire down.

Her skull cracks open when she falls.

Clove looks away.

Her cannon sounds.

...

The sun is setting.

She can hear the mutts tearing him apart, and she sits on the cornucopia with her hands covering her ears and her eyes brimming with tears.

She's down to her last knife, and she knows she must save it for herself.

He sees her, through the haze and fighting. And he mouths the word that she wishes she never saw. "Please."

"Oh, Cato." She lets her face break. "I'm sorry."

She throws her knife. She never misses.

...

The hovercraft picks her up.

She does not scream.

She does not protest.

She does not cry.

_Crying is for the weak, Clove. And you must not be weak. _

_..._

Career Clove takes over, and she's too worn out to try to stop her.

Career Clove snaps at her stylist for her choice of dress. Career Clove smiles at the cameras. And Career Clove answers Caesar's questions easily.

"What about the boy you were in an alliance with? I'm sure that's what's on everyone's minds."

The crowd cheers in agreement, and she sucks in a cool breath to calm herself.

She puts on her best smirk. "We do what we must to win. He wasn't as strong as he made himself seem."

Career Clove is good at what she does.

...

On the train ride back, she tries to kill Career Clove, but her smirk stays on her face.

She claws at it until there are marks on her face, and until her mentors stop her.

...

She goes home.

She runs into Clem's arms.

She cries.

_Crying is for the weak, Clove. But that does not mean that you are not strong. _

Career Clove tells her otherwise, but allows her to cry. She is mourning as well.

...

They sell her to the Capitol, and she loathes every minute of it.

Soon, she learns that refusing a customer has dire consequences.

Career Clove takes over, and she has no choice but to let her.

She claws and claws at her face, afterwards. She rubs at the bruises and the scars and she sits in bathtubs for hours.

She hates hates hates Career Clove.

_I know, _she responds back. _Because I am stronger than you will ever be. _

_..._

But Career Clove breaks.

And when she breaks, she shatters and howls and she sobs.

She is stronger than Actual Clove physically, and she destroys her room.

But deep down, she is weaker than Actual Clove is.

She just has less weak spots.

...

Actual Clove finds her weak spots, during the tour.

Career Clove takes over- her white sharp teeth making crowds flinch. Actual Clove sits by and watches her do so. She has become powerless to her.

It is when they visit District Two, that Actual Clove realizes Career Clove is losing her grip. Her smirk is barely visible, and her eyes are not as harsh.

She gives her speech, and before she leaves, both Cloves decide to finish it off with a bang.

"District Two needed more tributes like Cato. Even if he could be beaten by an outlyer."

She turns her heel, and she doesn't look back.

If she did, the crowd would see her tears.

...

On the train ride to One, Career Clove breaks mirrors and pillows and screams and screams and screams. Career Clove grabs her knives and aims for her heart. Career Clove isn't used to pain. Career Clove hates pain.

Her heart is causing too much pain, and she blames it on Actual Clove.

Actual Clove just lets her. She is done clawing at her face and fighting with this girl who refuses to leave.

It is when she wakes up in a pile of glass, that she realizes Career Clove was more in love with Cato than Actual Clove was.

...

She wants to become a rebel. She wants to become a rebel with all that is left with her.

Her district murmurs secrets and words that hint at rebellion and she wants a part of it.

Career Clove always sneers at Actual Clove and makes her stop her thoughts.

She never listens until Career Clove pulls on her heartstrings.

_Clem would fucking die, and you would die alongside him. _

She walks away, after that. But she never stops listening to the whispering.

...

Career Clove does not like Clem.

Actual Clove does not know how to explain that to him.

Career Clove punches and yells at Clem, and Actual Clove tries to stop her.

He has always been forgiving, however, even if he doesn't understand.

She cries in Clem's arms almost every night, and Career Clove looks away in disgust.

...

She has three customers one night, and she tries to kill herself after.

It is Career Clove that saves her and she hates her a little less the morning after.

...

When the sun is barely rising, she returns home and stays; ignoring the Capitol's beckonings.

She sleeps in Clem's arms, rather than a stranger's, and she throws knives and rides her horses.

Career Clove does not like horses, and they do not like her. But Actual Clove teaches her to get along with them, and she soon does not hate Career Clove.

The rest of her district can't look her in the eye, but they never were able to even before the games.

She ignores them and she pays back those that were kind to her beforehand.

Her father looks at her with disdain. She ignores him too.

She has her horse, and she has Clem. She is beginning to feel okay.

It is those days that she is happiest.

She is content.

...

But the sun has to set.

She comes back from a ride, and her house is in flames. She tries in vain to save the remains, but it is no use.

She sobs in front of the district when she learns her father and brother were inside.

She tries in vain to save the remains of her heart, but it is no use.

...

She cries for three days straight, and Career Clove allows her to. They have become more accepting of each other.

She cries until the flames stop, and she cries until she is all cried out.

She cries until she sees the shiny glint of metal that has the emblem of the Capitol.

_Crying is for the weak, Clove. And you are stronger than the Capitol. _

She picks herself up, and vows to see the Capitol in flames.

...

She wants to become a rebel so fucking bad.

But Career Clove never lets her. She always tells her that she is stupid and weak and that rebellions are not reliable. She tells her that she will die and that she will not avenge anyone by doing so.

Career Clove does not understand that Actual Clove has stopped caring.

So she does what Career Clove did to her, and she pulls on her barely there heart.

"Don't you want to avenge, Cato? Doesn't his death mean anything to you?"

Career Clove hits and claws at Actual Clove, but she wants this so fucking bad. She wants to watch the Capitol burn into ashes. She wants to kill them all, and she wants to avenge Clem. The only thing that is stopping her is herself.

_You fucking bitch, how dare you? _

"I know you loved him."

_I didn't love him. That was your fault. That was your half of our heart. _

"I guess that's why I was the one that killed him."

Career Clove starts crying and throwing things and claiming she is not weak. She curses at Actual Clove and breaks not only herself, but her surroundings.

So she stabs Career Clove in the back, when she's turned around and mourning Cato. She kicks her out of her mind and she muffles her crying.

She doesn't know when she became more heartless than Career Clove.

...

She joins the rebellion and she meets a woman from Two named Paylor.

Career Clove adores her. Actual Clove wonders if she has a knack for things from District Two citizens.

She receives her first position in less than a month.

Commander of Weaponry. She likes the sound of that.

Career Clove smirks at Actual Clove. She smirks right back.

...

It is not until she meets Gale Hawthorne that she decides to go into combat.

They make eye contact during lunch in District 13. Johanna Mason watches them glare at each other in amusement.

"Problem?" Career Clove asks. (or was that Actual Clove?)

He clenches his jaw, and doesn't answer. Johanna answers for her. "The Girl on Fire was his girlfriend."

She smirks before correcting herself. "Ex-girlfriend." He turns his glare at Johanna rather than Clove.

"Oh, come on handsome. You're in combat. Look how good you are without her." she says sarcastically.

"Shut up, Johanna." he says while getting up. "There's a reason _you're _not in combat. Look how good you are now.

When he leaves, Johanna pouts at her now lonely table, and flames flicker in Clove's eyes.

..

"I want to go into combat. I want to be a soldier." she demands.

Paylor is surprised by the proposal, but Coin cuts in for her.

"All due respect, you're already in a high ranking. Are you sure you want to give that all up to become a measly soldier?"

She glares at Coin.

"Gale Hawthorne is far from measly and he is a soldier. I'm positive."

Paylor tries to intervene, but Coin gives her a smirk that Clove wants to rip right off her face.

"Of course, Clove. Anything you want."

...

She joins Gale's squad; second in command, and watches him flinch at every move.

He constantly asks in frustration why she's even there.

She always responds with a flick of knife, and he can't question that.

...

They learn to trust each other, and they to use their skills in unison.

They learn to respect each other.

...

He stops hating her after she tells him about Clem and about the Capitol's influence on her life. He finds they have more in common than he had originally thought.

"Allies?" he asks, extending his hand. She flinches at the word.

She doesn't dare look him in the eye when she shakes it and repeats the word.

She is too afraid of seeing grey instead of blue.

...

He tells her about Hazelle and Rory and Vick and Posy. He starts to talk about Prim before stopping himself.

She's happy he does.

She almost tells him about Cato and about Career Clove, but refrains from doing so.

Career Clove hasn't said a word in months, and she finds herself not caring where she has gone.

...

They are called to the Capitol and they dutifully follow their orders.

He saves her life twice, and she curses at him because now she can't just watch him die and turn around.

It is when they lose each other at the square that all chaos is ensued.

Everything is a blur except for those steps that will lead her to Snow.

She runs and runs and runs up the stairs, until she hears the bombs go off.

She turns to see a pair of grey eyes, and she watches as he pushes a familiar blonde head away from the roar of fires.

She runs and runs and runs up the stairs again, and she doesn't dare look back.

...

In the end, she does not catch Snow.

She fights in vain against his guards, and watches his ugly smile creep up on his face.

She yells every curse word she knows, and throws her last knife at him- the hilt hitting his forehead- before being pulled away.

She is about to be executed when Career Clove returns.

...

Career Clove beats the soldiers and escapes. Career Clove runs and runs and runs down the stairs; back to the roar of fire.

Career Clove gets the attention of the other rebels and Career Clove almost falls into a silver parachute that had not been detonated.

Almost.

Strong arms push her away, and grey eyes meet hers.

And Gale Hawthorne saves her life for the third time.

...

He makes her go to the hovercraft when he sees her injuries. A broken arm, three broken ribs.

She didn't feel anything. She had stopped feeling emotion a long time ago. She wonders when she stopped feeling in general.

She sits back and listens to the rebels talk about Gale capturing Snow.

She smiles for the first time in months.

...

She kills Snow.

She murders him with all she's got.

And it's not Career Clove this time. It is all Actual Clove.

It's bloody and beautiful and her knives are dull by the end of it all.

When she finishes, Coin smirks at her, and she kills her too.

She decides that she's waited too long to rip that smirk off of her.

She walks out with her hands bloody, and no guilt whatsoever.

She walks out with Career Clove's approval, and she walks out with pride.

The sun is rising again and so is her hope.

...

{the end}

* * *

A/N: It's been a while. This prompt was on Cherie's, or clatorecs/eknowbaria on tumblr's prompt list, and I just stole it and went overboard with it. It was too genius. I tried to grasp Clove's character, while still trying to keep her District Ten roots- so you end up with a somewhat schizophrenic/bipolar Clove. Oops. I guess that's the price you pay for the games? I need to stop writing crazy versions of the pair. I apologize for this becoming more Clove-centric, and for including Gale. I couldn't resist. Anyway, this is the longest fic (and the only one I've finished) for a long time, so, as always, thoughts, and opinions are greatly appreciated!


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